


Our Hearts Are Heavy And Light

by Elise_Davidson



Series: 40 Snapshots [12]
Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: 35. Smile, 40 Snapshots, M/M, Smile, but sex too, little bit of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 01:50:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7782190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elise_Davidson/pseuds/Elise_Davidson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Young started to wonder what it would be like to be on the receiving end of a smile from Rush that wasn't an absolute parody of the action.  He only ever got the smirk, the sneer, the grimace.</p>
<p>In the end, there were smiles that Young entirely wanted to keep for himself, and ones he wanted nothing to do with.</p>
<p>Only warning I'll give is that major character death is not Rush or Young.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Hearts Are Heavy And Light

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Stranger in a Strange Land](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5304461) by [Dammit_Jim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dammit_Jim/pseuds/Dammit_Jim). 



> There's an idea in here (I can't say just yet because spoilers) that I used some inspiration from Dammit_Jim's story, "Stranger in a Strange Land". I tried to sort of alter it a bit because if I can help it, I don't want authors to feel I'm borrowing an idea too heavily, and definitely NEVER without credit. Check the link on the inspired by if you haven't read it; it's amazing!
> 
> Additionally, beta'd by LegacySoulReaver; any remaining mistakes are my own.

  1. Smile



 

The first time Young saw a real smile pulled from Rush’s face, it wasn’t even until they were out of stasis for a solid month.  Gliding along in FTL and talking about relativistic speeds and quantum mechanics (in other words, things Young tended to hear more as white noise until his attention was required more fully), Eli was attempting to make jokes around the bridge at his console with Chloe giggling and Scott smirking when the odd reference was obvious enough.

Eli turned in his chair in Rush’s direction at the console to speak to Young.  “I mean, come on, Colonel…I know you’ve got to get that our FTL lights are _way_ cooler than anything you ever saw on Star Trek.  I mean, seriously, just the stars lengthening out into suddenly nothing?”  Eli rolled his eyes.  “We at _least_ get blue streaks that are basically the coolest nightlight you’ll ever see.”

Young shrugged behind Rush, who sat in the command chair.  “Didn’t the stars have that kind of…rainbow tint though?” he asked, and Scott nearly broke his neck craning at Young in surprise.

Eli frowned.  “Well, yeah…but there’s no guarantee based in any science at all that it’d actually _look_ that, considering the Alcubierre warp drive tech is essentially theoretical and more of a football shape than a bubble, and even if it _did_ work, there’s the problem with stopping, inertial dampeners, artificial gravity that _doesn’t_ make you vomit, and finding an energy source to power it all together.”

Young sighed; he _knew_ he shouldn’t have engaged.

Rush turned a brilliant smile in Eli’s direction.  “Well done, Eli.”

Young would swear until his dying breath that he didn’t make a strangled noise at the look of a real grin on Rush’s face, and blamed it on the fact that Rush had actually outright complimented someone instead.

Still, three hours later when his bridge shift was over, he had a funny feeling deep in his gut that rumbled suspiciously in the direction of reluctant jealousy that Rush had turned that focused, smiling attention at Eli.

In response, and since he couldn’t read Ancient, he tracked down Volker for a crash course in theoretical physics, which turned into quantum mechanics, which turned into relativity, which finally came back to advanced physics (hey, Young knew aerodynamics, he wasn’t _stupid_ ).  He went to Volker because he knew Rush still disliked the astrophysicist intensely and as such, they rarely interacted.  He also chose Volker because the man had a way of explaining things in metaphors that made it easier to understand.  Any of it was better than the books they didn’t have on the subject matter.

It didn’t occur to Young to wonder _why_ he was bothering to learn something so complex when his plate was already so full.  He was just curious, that’s all.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

The next time he sees the full-blown, cheerful smile on Rush’s face, it was in response to Chloe and Scott.  It was like any normal day on Destiny—things trying to fall apart, then a brief alien attack thwarted (if a lot earlier and _much_ easier than the drones and the Nakai in no small part to Rush and Eli’s work on the shield harmonics and further enhancement to the weapons they did have), and, of course, one mustn’t forget the absolute unexpected.

Said absolute-unexpected came when Scott came from an off-world gathering mission, Chloe brightly grinning and holding his hand tightly, and Young raised an eyebrow (even though really, he _knew_ , he just wasn’t sure who else knew) in their direction.

It devolved quickly into Chloe showing James and Barnes the rose-gold band on her left ring finger, still a bit loose on the sizing.  Eli’s features were as tight as his stance behind his console, but when Chloe came to him to show him, he gave an easy-enough smile and hugged her affectionately, murmuring words of congratulations into her hair that no one could hear but her.

Rush crossed his arms when Scott approached him.  “You’re to take care of her, you understand, lad?” He narrowed his eyes.  “Just remember who knows these systems better than anyone.”

Scott nodded tightly, fingers clenched at his sides in a mockery of military attention.  “I’d put her life before my own.”  Okay, so Scott wasn’t entirely sure Rush’s threat held water, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to give him a chance to make good on it.

Before Rush could respond, Chloe was throwing her arms around him with a sort of confidence and emotion in knowing he wouldn’t shove her off.  “Aren’t you happy for me, Dr. Rush?” she asked.

He looked at her for a long time, calculating and deciding, before he raised an arm around her shoulders.  He squeezed her briefly before tugging away.  “Of course, dear,” he said, smiling honestly.  “So long as he keeps his word.”

Chloe shook her head at him, knowing him well enough that he meant something else by that, but Scott clapped a hand on her shoulder before she could comment further.

“Of course I will,” Scott said rebelliously, staring Rush down.

Rush only had eyes for Chloe, smiling fondly but honestly.

Young stared on from aside, barely nodding in Scott’s direction to confirm that as far as he was concerned, no one needed to know that the slightly-loose band on Chloe’s thin finger had _had something_ to do with Young’s own.

Rush sidled up beside him casually, as if Young were merely in the way of what he needed to see.  “You know, Colonel, sweet they are, but for the life of me, I can’t imagine how young Lt. Scott managed to find a ring someone was willing to let go of aboard this ship.”

Young shrugged, not meeting Rush’s studious look.  “Maybe some rings should mean something other than a reminder of what’s been lost and where we’re at now.”  He slowly exhaled as if a heavy weight had been removed from his chest.  “At the very least, it should get the chance to make someone happy.”

Rush nodded slowly, as if trying to work out a particularly complex equation.  He said nothing more though.

Young wished his skin didn’t feel so hot under that gaze, and wondered if maybe he would rather be sarcastically sneered at instead.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Young hated it the next time he saw an open, earnest smile on Rush’s face—if one could call it a smile anyway; that broken, fragile thing that came over Rush’s mouth as he gave a wedding band of his own over to Chloe to slide along Scott’s finger as Young officiated over their wedding.

It was with that same watery grin that Rush kissed Chloe’s cheek in a fatherly fashion, and damn near fled the room to get away from what had apparently become too much.  Young finished the ceremony, shaking Scott’s hand before pulling him into a hug that was just as familial as Rush’s kiss to Chloe.

Young found Rush later; the scientist had found something to tinker with behind a panel just past one of the CO2 scrubbers.  It had barely been twenty minutes since Young had excused himself (only about ten minutes after Rush had left) yet the older man was already smudged and smeared with grease, oil, and dust.

It was a long while before Rush finally stopped moving, stopped fiddling, stopped his manic movements—a too-long moment that Young realized was Rush trying to steel himself for interaction.

“I’m not here to bust your balls, Rush,” Young said quietly when Rush turned a defiant, “ _what the fuck did I do now?_ ” look on his face and streaked over his posture.

“Oh, no?” Rush demanded angrily.

“No, I wasn’t,” Young sighed back.  “Just wanted to know if you were okay.”

Rush was quiet for long enough, staring back at his work within the panel, that Young finally walked away, wondering just what the fuck he had expected from the recalcitrant man.  He cursed himself in his quarters later, shoving his face brutally into his pillow as if to suffocate the wayward thoughts from his mind.

Instead, he remembered the damaged grin on Rush’s face, the luminous quality to the man’s eyes, and resolutely admitted to himself that maybe, just _maybe_ , he had wanted to hug him, if only to let him know he had done the right thing by letting go of his ring.  Young knew because he had let go of his own.

It connected briefly when Young was in the last dredges of falling asleep, that maybe Rush thought rings should and could mean something else entirely as much as Young did.

His dreams were odd that night, blue-tinted images of rose-shaded flowers that grew wildly and without remorse for their effect on the local ecosystem.  Young tried to pick one, but it resisted until he yanked with both fists, the root suddenly coming up violently toward his face. Dirt rained on his skin, and thunder suddenly cracked in the distance.  Rain poured and washed the muck from his skin, and he fell to his knees, pale hands stroking in a farce of apology to the flower he had wrenched so viciously from the ground.  The petals curled about his fingers, and he re-planted the flower in an attempt to return it to its home, rain streaming over his face and soaking him to the bone.

Young woke two hours after falling asleep, his boxer-briefs damp with come and the image of Rush’s brittle smile in his mind.  He cleaned himself up haphazardly, not really caring to what condition he woke, and, accepting there would be a crick in his neck in the morning, hugged his pillow to his chest in an old childhood habit.

He was pretty sure he was starting to lose it whenever Rush smiled at someone else, and he knew with an alarming clarity that he never wanted to see that sad, awful smile on Rush’s face again—that look was only ever for Gloria.

Young shoved his face into the top of the pillow cuddled into his chest, and the sleep he got after was restless and irritable.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Park’s eyesight never really came back, not even after scouring the Ancient database (as unorganized as it seemed to be) and with several rotations of eye-doctors and other medical staff.  Her other senses, as predicted by both medically trained and not, seemed to be heightened.  She had a rather frightening ability to predict dropping out of FTL or going in, confirmed with three tests ran by Rush (and a further, private one by Eli) before Young put a stop to it.

She was a scientist, not a science experiment after all.

TJ only reported to Young that Park could see blurry shadows, differences between absolute darkness and brilliant light, and even _that_ , TJ admitted, might be wishful thinking on the patient’s part.  Park was able to recognize people approaching her by their gait, sometimes by their breathing, but her vision didn’t seem to be coming back in a meaningful way.

It was why it surprised Young so completely when Park approached him with a vivid smile and grabbed his elbow out of habit.  “He’s smiling!” she whispered, pointing her hand in Rush’s direction.

Young almost didn’t want to look, but, being a glutton for punishment, he did anyway.  To his great surprise, he found Rush looking over Eli and Chloe’s shoulders as they played some game on Eli’s laptop.  “How do you know?” he asked Park quietly.

Park stared at him with dark, unseeing eyes.  It was unsettling, as if she could see something that Young wasn’t entirely sure he could see himself.  “Because his voice is happy.”

Young swallowed hard, and knew that Park felt every fucking movement of it.  He gently took her hand from his elbow and handed it to Brody before he took off for the corridors of Destiny.  She had seen it, had felt it, he was sure.

She knew he wanted Rush.  The thought itself didn’t bother Young overly much, other than he had been suppressing the idea for way longer than he cared to admit to anyone.  It wasn’t even that he wanted _Rush_ of all people.

What bothered him was that Park had seemed to piece it out that Young wanted Rush to be happy.  He couldn’t _have_ that knowledge in one of Rush’s scientists, but then, Park lost her sight in little part to Rush’s damn-near sociopathic ability to decide what could and couldn’t be forsaken in light of the greater good.

Young found himself in the observation lounge, studying the blue streaks of FTL in silence.  He had always been able to tamp down on the side of himself that thought another man was attractive in the name of what he wanted the most—to fly into space, to break the barrier between atmosphere and vacuum until all that remained was just him and the stars and the darkness.

Now, it was down to the line, he was spiraling and unable to correct for the spin factor.

Later, alone in his room and firmly instructing military personnel that Scott was in charge for the next 48 hours, Young got drunk for the last time off of Brody’s latest batch.  It still tasted like paint thinner and burned even worse coming down (not to mention one awful moment when he thought it was going to come back up), but it did the job, and so long as Scott could hold down the fort, he was free to wallow in his own misery in his room.

If it was important enough, Scott would come find him.

In the time in between, there was his liquor ( _paint thinner_ ) and his own hand.  He tried first tugging at his cock uselessly while he thought of Emily.  Then again, he knew it wouldn’t work.

Young tried TJ next, remembering the pale skin and soft strands of blonde hair that had slipped through his fingers like smoke, the smell of her breasts as he had nuzzled them for comfort and buried himself in her (his _job_ ), fingers grasping around her shoulders as he mouthed her collarbone.

His dick was ( _annoyingly_ , in his drunken state) _still_ not willing to cooperate.

Taking a deep breath, Young tried for the first time to get off while thinking of another man.  He hadn’t thought to do it in a while, being something that could end his career, but he brought up the image of some random cadet he had attended academy with.

He realized his mistake once his fist was dragging hard at his cock, breaths too short and much too shallow—he had remembered Quinones more than anyone else.  Quinones had been an asshole, the guy had been smarter than any of them, but the chip on his shoulder had gotten him washed out three weeks before graduation.

It also wholly wasn’t who Young wanted to think about.

When Young spurted over his fingers, he wasn’t thinking of Quinones, wasn’t thinking of the short, dark hair of the cadet he attended academy with.  He was thinking about Rush, that scratched, dented smile clawing across his gut.

Four liquored hours later, Young thought of Rush openly instead of hiding it behind the vague shadow of someone else, stripping a fist along his cock so hard and desperately that it hurt and, instead of worrying about _who_ was getting him off in his whisky-dick state, sucked his fingers into his own mouth briefly before fucking himself, two fingers thrust without remorse into his ass and his hand clutching at his cock, the sounds of Destiny thrumming beneath him and Rush’s name on his lips.

Instead of Emily’s soft breasts, he felt Rush’s too-skinny chest and sparse hairs.  With the thought of TJ’s soft blonde hair and feminine curves, he thought of Rush’s graying, too-long hair and hard male lines.  Even though he had tried thinking of Quinones—his name had been _Da-veed_ , like David, but said with an obvious accent—he had felt not Quinones’s muscular legs, but Rush’s thin calves, pressed against his own.

Young came so hard he saw stars, Rush’s smile outlying new constellations versus the ones he used to know.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

It hadn’t taken long that a child would be conceived and born on Destiny.

Young lost a decent amount of rations, betting that it would be Chloe and Scott’s.  He grimaced when TJ cradled her newborn girl, named Alice Renea—Alice after the character in a book Varro had never heard of and Renea after Varro’s mother—not because TJ had found someone to love, but because he had lost the betting pool.

What really made Young want to swear his military heart out was the fact that Alice Renea was only minutes ahead of Chloe and Scott’s child; a boy, named Alan Patrick, both for Chloe’s father and for the priest that had raised Scott.

Young sighed at his lone seat in the mess, simply glad that both births had seemed to go easy enough.  He was scooping through his protein slush (though, to be fair to Becker, the man had really tried to integrate local spices and what hard-foods they had found into meals) when Eli tugged insistently on Young’s sleeve.

Three hours later, TJ (though tired and weak) was still holding her baby and Chloe was barely viable.  They didn’t have the resources, according to the doctor connected to Brody’s body, to really keep either of them alive, and eventually, it would come down to who wanted to fight more.

Young couldn’t stay by TJ, not with Varro there.  He approached Chloe’s bed, but the miserable set of Scott’s figure at her bed was nearly too much to bear.  It was when Rush turned a desperate smile of understanding to Scott that Young nearly lost it, wanting desperately to rub at Rush’s shoulders, to be affectionate, to just let him know that he wasn’t in this _alone_.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight, and decided to distract himself as best as he could—he asked Eli about the Alcubierre warp drive, if only because he knew enough about physics at this point (thanks to Volker) to understand it.

Eli’s kind smile nearly undid him.

***        ***        ***

In the end, they lost TJ abruptly and with little warning, as if TJ herself recognized she would barely be able to raise Alice, let alone see her grow and mature.

Young sobbed alone in his room at the loss, but refused to touch anything from Brody’s still.  When he went to the bridge later, Rush tilted his gaze at him in a way that indicated there was at least _one_ thing the two were on even ground for.

Rush fluttered his fingers through his hair.  He flicked the locks away, looking reluctant and sad and as if it was all he could do to keep his usual scowl off his face.  “Are…” He sighed, as if it took everything out of him to even ask before he crowded against Young’s personal space.  “You asked me once, if I was okay.”  There was no trace of a frown, but the concentrated look was still there.

Young looked at him, unsure if he could answer honestly at this point, even though all he wanted to do was let Rush fucking _hug_ him, and he couldn’t give in to that, not right now.  “No, I’m not,” is what came out anyway.

And then Rush gave him that same ruined smile that Young couldn’t fucking stand because it meant loss and grief and just too much for Young to even take in all at once.  Too many words and not enough coherence kicked at his teeth, itching to get out and spill themselves over Rush’s attempt to inquire into Young’s emotional state.

Young moved before Rush could say a word, and they were in a corridor because Young knew better than to try and hold this conversation anywhere near the bridge.  “Don’t fucking placate me this time; I can’t fucking take it,” Young snarled, but there didn’t seem to be any real heat behind it.  His hands stuttered as they rose to Rush’s face, and he wiped a smudge of dust from the shorter man’s cheek.  “If you’re not actually worried, don’t make me think you do, _please_.”

Rush looked slightly frozen, and all together confused.  “But…but _you_ …you _want_ …” It slowly dawned over his face as he pieced it together, looking very much like he had just solved the equations of the universe.

Young couldn’t stand himself sometimes, he really couldn’t.  He looked at Rush’s eager eyes, at the understanding—he slammed his lips across Rush’s, tongue seeking across the divide between their lips, fingers grasping desperately before shoving back reluctantly.  His gut twisted in arousal when he realized Rush was trying to chase him back against the wall of the corridor for more and his hands twitched mid-air back to him.

“ _Stop_ , I _can’t_ —“

Young wasn’t sure who said it.

Young fled without another word, willfully ignorant of Rush’s calls.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next time Young saw Rush’s smile, it wasn’t patronizing or sarcastic.  It wasn’t give-and-take, and it wasn’t honest and soul-bearing.

The next time Young saw Rush’s smile, it was pleasure-dark, an intense smirk of lips as Rush fingered him open, scissoring and broadening his fingers to prepare him.

Young notched his head back on the pillow, acutely aware of how his legs hitched and spread to show his want.  Intentional or not, the pads of Rush’s fingers brushed against his prostate, again and again and again until Young couldn’t stand it, and words fell from his mouth, uncontrolled and bitten off in a way that Rush seemed to relish.

“Tell me, _Colonel_ ,” Rush asked, “Do you actually want this?”

Young blinked, fists digging into the bunched, fitted sheet on the bed.  His teeth clenched.  “I want you,” he gasped out, his voice high and thready as Rush’s fingers cleverly hit their mark again, and yeah, Young had wondered at first if Rush was even meaning to, but there was no mistaking the deliberate drag on the sensitive nerves inside him at this point.

Rush dragged his fingertips along Young’s prostate again, a slow, smug smile spreading over his lips.  “Do you now?”  He sounded _amused_ , and Young keened beneath him, trying to thrust up and back at the same time.

Rush leaned from his position between Young’s bent legs.  He jerked his fingers again; Young let out an obscene sound of pleasure as he pushed down upon Rush’s fingers.  “ _Please_ ,” Young whimpered, his teeth finding purchase across Rush’s throat, hips shuddering on the bed as his cock bounced on his stomach, hard and wet.

“Please _what_?” Rush asked.

Young didn’t know.  He pulled back and slid his hands through the slip-soft hairs of Rush’s scalp.  He wound the strands until he could pull Rush’s head back.  “I don’t _know_ …” he groaned, and then Rush’s teeth scraped on his nipple and Rush’s fingers twisted in a way that his hips jolting upward.

“What do you want?” Rush demanded.

Young tangled his fingers into Rush’s hair, and pressed his hips against Rush’s answering erection.  In a hot, hushed breath, he whispered into Rush’s ear, “What do _you_ want?”  He lowered one hand from Rush’s head to let his fingers twitch over the head of Rush’s dick, slipping through the wet pre-come there.

Rush groaned above him, but seemed to have no qualms about admitting what he wanted.  “I want to fuck you.”  He rubbed his thumb over the crown of Young’s erection and his hand stilled at Young’s entrance, earning him a tight whine from the colonel.  “Now, what do you want?”

Young felt something tight curl around his throat as the words threatened to spill and then did.  “I want your smile,” he blurted out with little finesse.  “I want…I want you to be happy.”  He cleared his throat.  “You can still fuck me, if you want.”

Rush choked and bit at Young’s throat.  “Oh, I intend to.”

Young trembled beneath him, fingers wrapped around the back of Rush’s neck and the other urging him to move already and follow through with the action.  “Fuck, _now_ , Rush; come _on_ ,” he growled, trying to bury the moment of intensity before.

Rush smiled at him in the dim lighting of the room.  He seemed to be fully of aware of what Young was trying to ignore, but thankfully said nothing, moving until he had a pillow slotted beneath Young’s hips and grasping the base of his cock to line it against Young’s entrance.  “Impatient,” Rush muttered, but his pupils were dilated with pleasure and there was a high flush rising in his skin.

Once Rush was fully inside him, the curve of his lips catching on his temple, Young let his arms wrap tightly around Rush, finally in possession of one smile he doubted Rush would ever give to anyone else on this ship.

And he wasn’t sure, but he had the feeling that something similar must have been on his face as well, because Rush’s hand slipped over his cheekbone, thumb catching the edge of his eyebrow before tangling into the curls of his hair.

And then Rush began to move, and oh, _fuck_ , that was what Young needed.  He didn’t recognize the halted whimpers that croaked from deep in his throat, choosing instead to hold onto the dark rumbles of pleasure that emitted from Rush’s mouth.  The angle was just shy of being off though, and even if it felt amazing, what they were doing now, Young took the moment to dig his heels into Rush’s lower back and flip their position on the bed.

And _oh_ if that wasn’t just fucking amazing to be astride Rush’s hips, drinking in the sweaty, dark gaze of the man beneath him, hair messy and finger-combed by Young.  His breath shuddered from his mouth, the new angle deeper and hitting just right enough that he wasn’t sure if that would be the last breath he took.

Rush’s hands scrabbled for purchase on Young’s hips.  “ _Christ_ ,” he breathed out, fingers stripping over his ribs to tweak a nipple and scratch lightly back down to his hips.  “Fuck if you don’t look incredible.”

His voice sounded wrecked and reverent, equal parts amazed and encouraging.  Young slowly lifted and sank back down, eyes falling shut against his desire, struggling not to grab his cock and stroke it to completion.

Rush’s eyes shone in the darkness, his thumbs pressing into the hollow of Young’s hips as he moved.  “That’s it, Colonel,” he gasped with a harsh swallow, nearly shaking with the need permeating the room, “Fuck yourself.”

Young actually did choke at that, clutching at the base of his cock and his rhythm becoming erratic.  He swore sharply when Rush’s arms clamped around his waist and the scientist sat up with no small amount of effort, latching his mouth firmly to Young’s collarbone.  Rush thrust up into him as Young came back down, and Young felt Rush bat his hands away from his dick.

“You _can’t_ , I _need_ —“ Young struggled, incoherency beginning to worm its way through the words he had left.  “I want... _please_ , Rush, _please_ , I’ve _got to_ —“ he shallowly begged, not caring that he had _never_ heard himself sound like this before, not caring in the least that it was _Rush_ who had gotten him here.

“And you will,” Rush murmured against Young’s ear before nipping at the lobe.  A hand came up to his hair again, tugging insistently at the curls and locking his grip against his scalp.  “Keep moving,” he encouraged Young.

Young nearly sobbed with it, it felt too good, and _Christ_ , he needed to come, needed it like he needed air, like he needed _Rush_.  He cried out wordlessly at the realization of it, tangling his limbs around Rush’s narrow body, skin sliding sweet and sweaty on his arms.  His dick was rock-hard now, leaking pre-come between them and leaving smears of fluid when it brushed against Rush’s stomach.  His knees cradled Rush’s hips sharply between his own, digging in hard enough to leave bruises.

There wasn’t enough friction, and Young couldn’t keep his pace anymore, pupils blown and whimpering cries littering the air around him.  He wasn’t sure if they were from himself or Rush.

Rush kissed him hard and sweet, the upturn of his lips indicating a smile, though if whether it was affectionate or turned or both, Young couldn’t be certain.  He returned it all the same, hips grinding downward in search of completion, pleas ripped from his throat.

Still kissing him, Rush’s hand wrapped around Young’s cock.  Young choked a cry out into Rush’s mouth as the fingers around his erection squeezed and brushed over the tip, smudging pre-come fluid over it.

“Go on,” Rush gasped out against Young’s lips.  “Come for me, Colonel.”

Young felt the tension building, spiraling from his balls to his spine, spreading like a hurricane through his body until he was shaking violently against Rush’s body, come splattering and streaking between the both of them, his lips fastened to Rush’s as his orgasm took him with the force of a train.

Rush trembled against the onslaught before fucking him in earnest, holding some of Young’s weight to keep him upright.  The only sound was Rush’s harsh grunting and wordless cry as he came just as hard as Young had, fingers tight around a hip and the other pulling on Young’s hair as he shuddered to a stop.

They collapsed back down to the bed, Young rolling off to one side as Rush slipped out of him, breathing still shaky and uneven.

Rush turned to face him, his smile open and breathless.

Young kissed the corner of it, affection surging through the action.  “Good?” he asked, a note of insecurity beneath the casual tone.

Rush leaned over and kissed him fully, licking briefly into his mouth and letting a hand drift along Young’s waist and hip.

Young felt something snap into place when he saw the small smile on Rush’s face as he pulled away to allow them to lie down.

***        ****     ***

“You know,” Rush said conversationally as they rested off-world while one team watched the gate, another went in search of edibles, and a third in search of medicinals, “There was one thing I always meant to ask.”

Young raised an eyebrow.  “Oh?”

Rush wasn’t looking at him, but even though they’d been doing their… _thing_ , for lack of better words, for several months now, it wasn’t unusual for Rush to avoid eye contact.  It generally meant all systems were functioning normally so far as Young was concerned.

There was a deliberately, absent tone of voice though that had Young’s back straightening.

“If I recall, your wedding band was gold, not rose-gold.”

Young’s heart caught in his chest.  “So it was.”

“So you didn’t give it to Scott to ask Chloe?”

Young shrugged in a one-shouldered jerk that was less casual than he would’ve liked.  “What I did was get Brody and Volker to melt mine down with some other precious metals other crew had aboard that were willing to part with them.  It’s highly unlikely that Chloe and Scott will be the first to have need for jewelry, and I didn’t want only _my_ ring represented on her finger.  It’s different the other way round for you and your ring.”

Rush didn’t respond, but his shoulders tensed.  “How do you figure?”, and _oh_ , that tone of voice was so dangerous that Young could practically feel a punch across his face.

Young cleared his throat and knelt where Rush was taking soil samples, looking for basic minerals that could be used in Destiny’s repair needs.  He clapped a hand gently on Rush’s shoulder, an innocuous enough gesture that it wouldn’t raise eyebrows, but he curled his fingers just tightly enough to let Rush know it wasn’t meant to be a casual gesture.

“My marriage ended because we wanted it to and were too weak to say shit to actually make that happen,” Young said quietly.  There must have been some degree of sincerity or emotion coloring his tone though, because Rush tilted his gaze at him, dark eyes curious and intense.  “Yours ended because life isn’t fair.”

Rush had stopped digging, knuckles white against the trowel he had been using.  “I wasn’t there for her,” he said softer than Young had, “And I know Chloe will do for Scott what I never could for…” He trailed off, but didn’t finish.

Young wasn’t sure if Rush had been going to say Gloria or Chloe in that moment, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.  He wasn’t… _jealous_ , per se, but he also knew that there was a piece of Rush’s heart that would forever be locked away.  So it wasn’t possession, he figured—it was a matter of some part of Rush that Young would never get to know or see.

During the tense silence, Rush’s hand had landed on Young’s knee, shielded from curious onlookers by their bodies.  Nothing else needed to be said suddenly, the conversation drawing to an inevitable conclusion that the past was the past, and this was now.

It wasn’t long after Rush had started digging again and Young had checked in with various team leaders before they were together, scraping at the smoke-colored rocks that tested positive for a mineral component with a ridiculously long name that even Rush seemed to balk at (before muttering, “Who cares, it’s good for just about every circuit panel we possibly have”) that they found themselves settling to wait on the remaining team to come back.

“There was something else I wanted to ask,” Rush said idly, and again, his tone was lined with something that made Young raise an eyebrow warily.

“Shoot,” Young responded, pulling his canteen up to drink.

“A little birdie told me you understand warp drive.”

Young choked on his water.

Rush snorted in laughter.  “Though if that rumor is true and Volker was the one teaching you, I’ll have to say, Colonel, your knowledge is sorely lacking and more than likely covered in metaphors that only half work.”  He pulled one of his precious remaining notepads from his breast pocket and jostled their shoulders together.  “Now, watch here because I’m only going to show you once; understand?”

The smile Rush directed at him was just shy of impatient and mean, with bits of exasperation, fondness, and a bit of teaching behind it.

Young ducked his head.  “Alright, Rush.”

The smile didn’t fade from Rush’s face.

xxxxFINxxxx

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, and once again, this came out WAY longer than I thought it would. I'd actually let LegacySoulReaver pick the prompt this time (which of course was done by randomly poking my list) and I was completely lost at first. And then the draft, and the re-draft, and the deleting of about four pages that just weren't working and lord, I'm almost tired of looking at this by now XD Pretty sure LSR is too.
> 
> Still, hope the editing process was worth it and that you enjoyed! And again, credit to Dammit_Jim for the idea about the rings, and if you haven't read "Stranger in a Strange Land", well...what are you waiting for? ;)


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